


June

by LearaBribage



Series: the missing pages [20]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist (Live Action), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, 青鳥の虛像 Fullmetal Alchemist | Fullmetal Alchemist: Bluebird's Illusion
Genre: Berthold "Right In Front Of My Steak Seriously?" Hawkeye, F/M, Fluff and Angst, General "What Illicit Hand-Holding? It's LEGAL YOU HEAR" Grumman, Maes "That's the First Rule of Marriage How Can You Guys Forget" Hughes, Mutual Horror, Mutual Pining, Philosophy, Riza "IDK Who These People Are" Hawkeye, Roy "Maybe We Should Have Locked the Door" Mustang, The Author Regrets Everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28334646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearaBribage/pseuds/LearaBribage
Summary: In which we discover what occassion did Riza Hawkeye wear that pink dress she lent to Winry Rockbell in the FMAB: Son of Dawn game, how Roy and Riza talked about the war before he went to the military academy, and why the Hawkeye family can be *cough* a little helpful without realising it (*glares at Berthold*).Cue (Il)legal hand-holding, Held Gaze(TM), and Angsty Pining (what were you expecting with this Author, seriously?????)
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: the missing pages [20]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1731022
Comments: 14
Kudos: 20





	June

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vade_brucestephenbucky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vade_brucestephenbucky/gifts), [roymustangfma](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=roymustangfma), [LettersandCoffee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LettersandCoffee/gifts), [SaoirseVictoire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/gifts), [candlemouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/candlemouse/gifts).



> HAPPY HOLIDAYS, Y'ALL!!!! 
> 
> Btw, I commissioned [@idontlovejingyi](https://idontlovejingyi.tumblr.com/post/637533005147242496/commissioned-by-eglantinian) to illustrate a fanart for this. ;) 
> 
> Written for the following prompts: 
> 
> (1) LettersandCoffee - song prompt "Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall" by Ella Fitzgerald / "Crazy He Calls Me" Billie Holliday  
> (2) shadows-of-1832 / SaoirseVictoire - "I wish I could take the pain away."

"Mr Mustang," Riza greeted him as she emerged from the doorway of the library.

Roy had been looking for her everywhere in the house to give her a present, but she wasn't in the living room, and he's checked the study above, so he thought that the only room he hasn't checked was the small library downstairs. She probably wanted to be there before her birthday dinner to have some time for herself, so he was about to enter the library to give her his present — a dark cotton sweater he hoped would be suitable for her.

He remembered her pained expression when they accidentally bumped on each other in the same room a few weeks ago. She hadn't told him why her back hurt a lot save for sleeping on the wrong side of the bed, and though he wasn't sure that was all there was to it, he didn't want to make her feel uncomfortable, so he didn't prod further. Though, that's why he asked his aunt to help him search for a good one. He just hadn't counted on being surprised with her appearance today.

Rather it was. Well.

 _H-her... her attire_ , he couldn't help gawking.

Today, she wore a spaghetti-strapped dress the shade of a pink rose that hinted at her decotellage. He swallowed, focusing on her other accessories instead. Around her neck, she accentuated it with a long necklace of the same colour that showed off her delicate collar bone. The frock smoothly fell off her figure, drawing attention to the swell of her hips — and he really shouldn't take _notice_ , but it would be such a disservice with how she looked so happy wearing it.

Thus, given his surprise, he had not been able to return the greeting — his one hand was about to open the door of the library while the other was stretched out, the gift hanging on his hand between them.

"G-gift—you," he croaked. He mentally heaved a sigh when she only shyly accepted the present from him.

"Thank you for coming today," she said, caressing the fabric in appreciation before looking up at him again. "And for this sweater, as well. I like it very much."

Roy gulped, coming back to his senses when she beckoned him to enter the library with her.

"That dress... on you," he stammered, not knowing what to say — _why was his throat so dry?_ — but he kept trying, anyway, desperately ignoring how the warmth on his cheeks have traveled up to the tips of his ears. Roy sighed, scratching his head, and gazed at her fitfully, only to look away abruptly when her eyes met his. He ran a hand through his hair, brows furrowing. He bit his lips.

"It's... it's just...," he kept muttering, only to lose the thread of his thoughts once again when Riza called his name gently.

"Mr Mustang," she quietly said, looking down, "it's all right, you don't have to say anything. I... understand if you don't want to."

Her eyes were locked onto the floor, and a distressing wave of shame settled on Roy's shoulders. This was _wrong_. He couldn't bear to make her sullen on her birthday. It was grossly unfair. She had always been so encouraging of him, so it was only right to return her kindness.

 _What sort of friend am I to her if I made her frown today, of all days?_ he thought tersely, chiding himself.

And since he couldn't seem to find the words, the proper words — to convey why he was so awestruck by her dress, and why he couldn't accept how her lips curved with disappointment — he stepped towards her, and when she looked up at him, he did his best to hold her gaze. He didn't want to look away again, so he made sure no one was around them by relying on what he could hear — there was no one in the library of the estate since his master and her grandfather were in the study, and he could still hear their chatter, no, _debates_ from above — so he took her hand as gently as he could and raised it to his lips. Roy ignored the shivers he felt from what he was about to do, so he closed his eyes, mustering his strength. He can't afford to make her frown again, so he pressed his lips against her hand and kissed it softly.

He couldn't hear anything else except for the sharp intake of her breath. And he couldn't feel anything else except for the smooth skin pressed against his lips, and the way his heart raced at the contact.

Nothing else seemed to exist. Except for her.

Slowly, Roy drew away from her, eyes still closed. He hasn't... he couldn't let go of her hand just yet. And when he finally opened his eyes, he found that her lips have parted slightly, and her deep brown eyes have grown wide with wonder and something... he couldn't quite yet decipher.

If that was the case, has he taken it too far? Has he been too disrespectful? Roy did not want that, so he grasped the hand he held with another, if only to assure her.

"I... ah," he whispered, feeling a little dazed with how she was looking at him, "I hope it was all right, Miss Hawkeye."

Riza took a deep breath, nodding. "It is," she whispered back, letting their hands fall together. "Thank you, Mr Mustang."

He arched a brow, confused. He hasn't done anything that remarkable. "Miss Hawkeye," he said, scratching his head with one hand, "I'm not sure what you're thanking me for."

Riza looked at him sceptically in return. "Mr Mustang, you always try to be there for me. You've been a dear friend. Is that not something worth celebrating?"

 _A... dear friend?_ he repeated to himself, feeling shy and a little confused at the pang in his heart, even as his elation at her words eventually won out.

"It's your birthday, Miss Hawkeye," he reminded her then, trying to grin away his bewilderment. "You're the one worth celebrating." Her cheeks flushed a pretty colour, and without realising it, his lips curled even more.

"Mr Mustang," was all she could say, her voice sounding a little shaky.

"Hmm?" he teased, arching a brow at her. "Typically, you'd have rebuked me with a quip around this time, Miss Hawkeye. Shall I take today as my win? You've scored plenty on my birthday, yes? So, it's only equivalent exchange, how about it?"

"You do not play fair, Mr Mustang," Riza said with thin lips, squeezing his hand. "It's my birthday today, you said."

He laughed.

"It is, it is," he repeated, if only to allay the realisation that they were still, in fact, holding hands.

So, to distract himself, he asked her, "Very well, let us even the playing field. Shall we spar then, Ser Hawkeye?"

He just didn't expect her brown eyes to grow serious, so he mentally gulped. Her gaze — it _really_ can be frightening when her mind was set on something. He can't say he didn't like it, though. It suited her well.

 _A piercing gaze befits a radiant person_ , he thought, admiring the pensive look that now fell on her visage.

Roy was silently appreciating the way the floral hairpin made her blonde hair prettier when she suddenly threw him the question, “How do you think our language would be like, Mr Mustang, if we didn't grow up with war?"

He arched a brow at her, his lips curling. Suffice to say, she really liked asking the hard questions.

"You really like asking hard questions, Miss Hawkeye," he repeated his thoughts to her with a smile and received a determined grin.

"Fair is fair," she replied, standing beside him in the corner of the library they've sort of unofficially claimed as their spot. Roy looked up at the ceiling, laughing all the while. He remembered the whimsies they joked about, but it was the stories they shared and the gentle way she looked at him that heavily imprinted his thoughts.

Suddenly, he felt something brush against his hand, and that's when he realised that she had curled her fingers with his.

He let out a shaky breath, scratching his head as he looked away. He didn't want her to see how red his face was, so when he turned to her, he hid his face beneath the fringes of his jet-black hair, and whispered, "Miss Hawkeye, what led you to ponder this?"

She only glanced at him with a soft smile before saying, "I've just been thinking about how my grandfather's been in the army his whole life. It's all he ever really talks about, much to my father's chagrin."

"Because in Aerugo, he already began his service at a young age," Riza continued, tilting her head. "I gather that it'd have made the migration easier, but is that the only thing to do? Amestris is a rich country, and the skills trade here is diverse. Medicine. Education. Technology. Agriculture. I think my grandfather would have made an illustrious career as an engineer... or maybe even a legislator. As you can see, however, that is not the case. He's a brilliant man, even without him using alchemy, so I began wondering. Because don't soldiers get called 'military dogs'? I'm proud of my grandfather as his grandchild, but is that not polarising?"

She heaved a sigh. "That's why I carefully watched how he talked about the military... and I noticed that there's always been a sort of... _sound_ to it, even in casual discussions."

Roy looked at her encouragingly, brushing his thumb on hers. "Anything come to mind?"

She did not look back at him, but she caressed his thumb back before continuing. His other hand trembled, and though he was doing his best to keep calm and listen to her, the quiet was a lie — his thoughts kept growing pensive and out of control. His cheeks were flaming. 

"My grandfather... whenever I told him about my difficulties in school, he'd say, 'keep fighting!' It's not that I disagree with it, but the sentiment... it is exhausting, Mr Mustang. It's not like living isn't already difficult. Why must I labour unhappily, when the pursuit of knowledge is a pleasure? But what really made me wary of his speech was when my grandfather talked with my mother. In father's study upstairs, I once found a journal with my mother's name — though I cannot find it now — she once wrote how grandfather consoled her with, 'most wars are external, and they are rigorous, but it is the internal war that fatigues us more.'"

She sighed.

Roy tensed, the mad whirl of his thoughts coming to a grinding halt as Riza spoke about her wariness of the military. He was planning to go to the military academy, and he was about to tell her, but given her thoughts, what if she comes to hate him for it?

He doesn't want to be hated by her.

 _Please don't_ , he thought sadly, making sure his face was impassive when he glanced at her again.

"I get what he meant, and while my mother thought it helped a bit, I felt like she wasn't really satisfied with it. That's why...," she continued, her eyes cast down, "I feel sad about it sometimes. It feels like that's all there is to living— _war_ , that is. So, I thought, what if we had a better way of saying things? One that isn't influenced by war? Because it makes for good banter, but it can feel lazy."

He swallowed, trying to push down the anxiety in his guts. He grinned at her instead, saying, "You really have a sobering take on things, Miss Hawkeye. I like it very much."

"Mr Mustang," she whispered, "it's because you've always let me speak my mind. That's why I'm thankful for our friendship."

 _Our friendship_.

His heart twinged again, and he does not understand why.

Is it possible to ingest poison unknowingly? But between his heart stinging from her words and the wrench in his guts from her thoughts, he'd choose the stinging if it meant that she would not hate him, so he focused on that instead.

"Ah," was all he could say, his cheeks flushing as he scratched his head. "I'm grateful. For you too—I mean, Miss Hawkeye."

"So, what do you think, Mr Mustang? I'll say more about what I think, but I'd like to hear yours too."

Given that, however... he might as well try to... explain a little. He thought he'd have more time to tell her, but fate was a fickle friend, and delaying the inevitable was just going to end up as a stab in the dark. He didn't want to do that to her, so he'll tell her tomorrow and use this chance to preface his decision. 

Roy leaned back on the bookshelf slightly, raising his eyes to the ceiling to ponder his thoughts. "I think... we'd have fewer misunderstandings because of pride. This is just my view of things, but war... war makes people think that war is the one of the greatest equalizers. However, few admit that it's not because of glory, but death. The thing is... a lot of people want to be seen. People want to be treated equally, but they still want to be recognised for their efforts, and the way it's advertised in this country baits people into thinking that _that's the only way_. That by joining the army, they'd be heroes worthy of mention in the annals of history. That their families would be taken care of just because they served the government."

He ran a hand through his hair, letting the fringes of his hair hide his eyes. When she squeezed his hand to assure him, he sighed before continuing. 

"But that's not the case. Not at all. In the military, connections speak louder than words. Favor... is your bargaining chip against privilege. But it is often so the case that privilege takes priority over anything. So regardless of merit, the people's sacrifices are swept away into the dust and claimed by those above them. It is not as heroic as they dreamed it to be. That's why... pride is the death of humanity, and in our society, war is its vehicle. War is the instrument of tyranny and impunity. And as absurd as it is, people don't want to admit that they are fascinated by terror... from afar. That's why... it is as you've observed, its reach even extends _so far_ into the common life." 

Riza nodded at his words, leaning back as well as he went on, "When it is that pervasive, it becomes a shackle of terror, not the bond of camaraderie it tries to be. And so, if we were to have grown up without war... I do think we'd all be less prideful. In a bad way. There's nothing wrong with taking pride on what you did, but when that pride is in excess, it can translate into something dangerous. Like _war_. I mean, consider how so much of the government's coffers are allocated in the military for the sake of 'peace', but so little of it is put everywhere else." 

"If we hadn't grown up with war, I think we'd be more considerate of each other, less likely to resort to violence, and more likely to be creative... creative in the sense that we wouldn't be satisfied unless everyone is happy. We'd keep trying. We'd keep helping each other. When that's the case, our first choice wouldn't be violence, but driven towards empathy. And so, our language wouldn't be marred by the aggressive undertones of martial thinking. It'd be... it'd be...," Roy knew where he was going with what he was saying, but he can't summarise it yet fully.

He looked at her, searching her gaze for clarity, and just when something popped in his head, she grinned at him.

"It'd be more wholesome... more nurturing right?" Riza finished for him, her brown eyes growing pensive towards him. When he nodded, her smile grew, and her brown eyes seemingly twinkled with delight at him. "I agree. Because when empathy is the first choice, we wouldn't be so obsessed with whoever does what, and we'd be more encouraging of each other. And we'd cherish the memory of those long gone before us with more respect, more fondness. And we'd... we'd plant more trees. There'd be less smoke in the air. It’d be... a future of good fortune and a world... of happiness."

He could only stare at her in admiration. "Miss Hawkeye," he whispered, his voice growing thicker with emotion. "You... you really..."

 _...are the best_ , was what he'd like to say, but the words seemed stuck at his throat when her deep brown eyes pierced at him.

Like she wanted to say something more, but was having difficulty saying it, so she went for humour instead by teasing him, "I'm really what, Mr Mustang?"

He relaxed his shoulders a little, trying not to tense up. He didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, and he was a little relieved for the slight sway away from the tension, so he went for the usual, "I just really like how you think, Miss Hawkeye."

Riza blushed, but she looked at him head on, saying, "Is that all, Mr Mustang?"

Roy gaped at her in shock, his heart thundering against his chest, as he stammered, "I-I mean, er, you're a dear friend to me too, so—"

 _I really hope I don't end up getting hated by you... when I tell you I'm hell-bent on entering the military._

He was not able to finish the sentence when he heard his master call for them in the dining room. Startled, they let go of each other's hands and raced to the area. Roy felt a slight pang from the loss of contact, but he felt like he could breathe a little easier. He felt a little calmer, and he didn't mind that his master had him sit far away from Riza.

Her deep brown eyes... they were getting bad for his heart. It kept palpitating. It was weird. And he thought he'd have enough reprieve from all the confusion, especially since his head's feeling a little winded from their conversation and the way she looked in that dress, but as it turns out, he was wrong.

After they've had dinner, Riza's grandfather, General Grumman, suddenly said, "Why don't we make my granddaughter's birthday livelier with some dance?"

 _Very, very wrong_. 

His master was halfway from plopping a piece to steak into his mouth when the question was posed, so the wrath that emanated from Berthold's glare blanketed the room with chills. Roy eyed Riza worriedly, noticing how tightly she was holding her silverware. He couldn't see her face because she was looking down, but he felt a silent sort of anger... no, it wasn't that. It felt sadder.

He looked down at his own plate, feeling his own appetite decrease.

Berthold coughed loudly, his breaths staggering, before glaring at the General, saying, "There's been a lot of excitement for my daughter already. Isn't that enough?"

General Grumman raised his hands, laughing his objection off. "I understand," Grumman said. "If it's not much too trouble, though, why don't we have you take your medicine, Berthold? It's upstairs, right?"

"I am _well_ ," Berthold insisted, making the General snort. Roy and Riza stared at each other, unsure what to do, when her grandfather rolled his eyes, saying, "Nonsense. You just coughed up an entire chimney, Berthold. Don't let it get to the children, _especially_ your daughter." 

The General then stood up, walking towards Berthold, grabbing him by the sleeve of his coat.

Berthold sneered, resisting his hold, "I told you—"

Grumman flicked his forehead, shocking Riza's father into silence. "It will only take a bit, you goddamn idiot."

Berthold cursed under his breath but followed Riza's grandfather upstairs. Suddenly, the General glanced at the both of them—winking at his granddaughter.

Silently, Grumman mouthed to them, " _Dance_."

Roy gulped, his cheeks flaming, but he saw how Riza cast her eyes to the floor, so he immediately offered, "This'll only be quick, but do you... we can dance for a little, if you like?"

Riza stood up, walking towards him before doing a small curtesy. "If you would as well."

He fidgeted with his collar for a second before taking her hand and leading them to a more spacious area in the dining room. Immediately, Riza placed a hand on his shoulder while he put his hand to a safe spot on her waist. Once they settled, they glanced at each other for a second not doing anything, uncertain.

"There's no music, I'm sorry," he said, and she shook her head, replying, "This much is fine. We can still talk while dancing."

Roy whirled them both, grinning when Riza laughed at him when she accidentally stepped on his foot. She was about to apologise when he shook his head and pulled her closer to him for another spin. This time, though, Riza successfully avoided hitting his feet, and after the twirl, she leaned her back on his front, heaving a sigh.

It was a miracle to avoid her eyes. He would not have survived. He just wished she wouldn't hear the thunder of his heart. Because the thing was — pressed up as she was to him like this... with _his hands_ holding onto hers as she crossed her arms — THEY. WERE. HUGGING. EACH. OTHER. 

_RESPECTFULLY_ , his mind insisted as he tried to disentangle himself from her in case his master and her grandfather arrived at any point in time, and find them in a compromis— _no,_ awkward, _no, irresponsible, NO,_ unexpected _position_.

"Miss Hawkeye, we need to—," _get away from each other before anything BAD happens_ was what he'd like to say, but then she suddenly blurted, "You're going away, Mr Mustang. I can feel it."

He froze. "W-what? Where did you—? I haven't told anyone—"

Riza sighed in his arms before moving away from him, her eyes becoming teary once she looked up at him from a distance. "Mr Mustang, if you think all those things earlier, why the military?"

He stared at her, his mouth agape. He swallowed, gazing away from her — surprise, anger, sadness, and fear all making his heart squeeze painfully. "I was... going to tell you tomorrow," he whispered, still not looking at her, "but how did you know?"

Riza stayed still, fidgeting with her hands. "You were so passionate about the talk earlier, Mr Mustang. It's like you desperately wanted to... _do_ something about it. That's what it felt like. That's how I knew."

Roy looked up at her then, his heart twinging. Though he thought it was not because he was hurt by her words. Slowly, he walked up to her, about to hold her hand, but she hasn't met his eyes, so he let his hands fall.

"I haven't told anyone else... but you figured it out... just from that," he whispered, hoping she'd look at him again. "Miss Hawkeye, your eyes... never miss anything."

This time, she raised her head and stared right into his eyes. He didn't mind that she looked at him sadly. He just wanted her to look at him.

"Your eyes never lie, Mr Mustang," she whispered back, her voice a little strained.

 _I don't want to be hated by you. I really don't_.

"Are you...," he sighed, covering his mouth as he stepped away from her. Roy wanted to ask if she was disappointed, but that felt wrong to say, so he ran a hand through his hair, and cast his eyes to the floor with another sigh. "I'm sorry."

"If it's something you'll work hard on, why are you saying sorry, Mr Mustang?" she asked with a laugh.

Roy pivoted in surprise, finding her smiling at him.

He gritted his teeth, trying to still his tears from falling. It's not that he's sorry he didn't tell her. It's just that he didn't want to leave her alone. More than that, however, was that he was afraid to be too powerless to help her in the future, so he must go. It's just that he'd been putting off when he'd tell her because he was afraid she'd be averse to his plan like her father, but she beat him to it.

And she wasn't even angry. What did he ever do to have someone like her in his life?

"Miss Hawkeye," he whispered, stepping in front of her to rest his head on her shoulder, "thank you."

Riza laced her fingers with his.

"My father will be difficult about it," she whispered back. "But for what it's worth, please don't forget... just please don't forget our friendship."

Roy chuckled against her shoulder, grasping her hand more tightly. "Impossible. I cannot forget you."

 _It will only be for a while_ , he reminded himself, desperately etching the warmth of her hand and the sound of her voice in his head. 

_Because if it meant a chance to make your dream for a world of happiness come true, then..._

He hugged her briefly, just as he heard steps coming down, before releasing himself from her.

 _I will... endure it._

Hours later, when Roy left the Hawkeye Estate, Grumman sidled up next to his granddaughter.

Riza had changed clothes then and was staring at the window. He arched a brow at the pensive look on her face when he realised that it was the path that Xingese boy took up earlier. He smirked.

"That boy," he asked, catching his granddaughter's attention, "he is your father's apprentice, yes?"

She only nodded, hugging her knees to herself. It appeared that she didn't want to divulge much about the boy, though he gathered that was probably because of his goddamn idiot of a son-in-law. Not that it mattered. He heard that the boy had his eyes set on the military. And if his granddaughter was afraid to say it, he might as well help her with it.

"Roy Mustang.... he's planning to go to the military, right?" he asked, fanning himself with glee.

Riza stared at him. "Grandfather, I thought _eavesdropping_ was bad." 

"It's called precipitated conversation," General Grumman quipped, closing his fan with a loud tap.

Riza only stared at him in reply. As if to say, _This Is Why I Don't Tell You Things._

He chuckled internally.

"Anyway, since he's Berthold's apprentice, that means he'd make a fine soldier," the General said, playing with his mustache. Then he eyed his granddaughter, watching her face grow impassive. 

She was trying really hard not to cry.

 _That boy_ , _will be,_ the General thought, his eyes squinting at his granddaughter, _if he's not already, an important person in Riza's life._

He smirk grew wider. 

"Would you like me to see how he'll do at the academy?" Grumman asked more kindly.

His granddaughter looked at him uncertainly before nodding slowly.

"Anything for my granddaughter," he replied, a little relieved that she seemed to have cheered up a little for that. It's just that...

 _I cannot promise the world of war will be kind. I'm sorry, my child_ , he sighed internally, thinking of that boy. 

He eyed his granddaughter. 

_I'm sorry,_ he repeated, this time, thinking of his granddaughter.

"You're joining the military, Riza?!" Grumman bellowed at his granddaughter years later, glaring at the stark blue of the uniform she wore with a defiant gaze.

Riza crossed her arms. "For years, you've been yapping non-stop about the military, grandfa— _General_. How do you expect me _not_ to?"

The General threw his hands into the air. "Have you gone mad? Or is this about that bo—?!"

"—I'm doing this not just for myself," Riza insisted. "I have a _reason_ to. And it's not—it's _not_ because of that." 

Grumman realised that if he kept pressing Berthold's apprentice as the reason, their discussion would go _nowhere_ , so he heaved another sigh. He'll find another way to gauge her motive for joining, but he'll let it go this time. This time, he'll talk to her as she wishes. 

"Very well, Private," he surrendered, but then he couldn't help adding, "just don't expect this place to be kind. This isn't like the fairy tales I told you once upon a time."

Riza rolled her eyes. "Never did, never will. Now, _General_." 

"Just beware the world you entered," he muttered. "Dismissed."

She gave him a salute before leaving, unaware.

Unaware of how _greatly_ she underestimated the horrors of war.

Years later, Major Roy Mustang was following Captain Maes Hughes on the way to thank whoever saved them from the attempted attack by a vagrant Ishvalan. They were talking about his lover — Gracia, her name was, according to the idiot — when the "Hawk's Eye" saved him then.

He wasn't sure, but his heart squeezed painfully suddenly. _Could it be_ — _?_

"Ah, there she is. Yo!" Hughes said over his thoughts, "Thanks for before. You were the one who shot that, right?"

She took off his hood, and there she was. Roy could only stare at her. 

"It's been a while, Mr Mustang," she greeted numbly. "No, perhaps, I should address you as _Major_ Mustang now."

He couldn't breathe.

Her eyes... he wanted to hold her hand like before since it's been so long... but. Her eyes.

They were _just like his._

"Have you begun to remember?" Riza asked glumly, the light in her voice seemed to have fade away.

Roy swallowed, gritting his teeth. "...how could I forget?"

_How could I forget you. How could I forget your eyes. How could I forget your voice._

But now it's come to this. Ahh... how awful.

_Even you've gotten killer's eyes._

Roy wanted to hold her hand, but could he? Does he even have the right to hold her hand after all they've gone through in this war?

His hands balled into fists. This... _this_ is the price. _I'm sorry._

But a promise is a promise. And if it's for her, there's nothing else to do but endure it. For the sake of her dream, he cannot let her down.

That was the promise they made that day.

 _You're not just a friend to me, after all_ , he thought, hiding his eyes beneath his jet-black hair, if only to hide from the terrible sadness in her deep brown eyes.

He did not have a name for the strange pang in his heart for her before, but now...

_You're not just that._

_You're more._

**Author's Note:**

> The royai discussion here about war was something based off a conversation I had with a friend. I just expounded it more by talking to myself. As usual. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed, and please stay safe these holidays! The Coronavirus isn't over, y'all~
> 
> P.S. Edits on 08 Jan 2021: Fixed some grammar stuff and syntax for max hits straight to the kokoro XD


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